


Day Trip

by AutisticWriter



Series: Harry Potter Autistic Headcanons [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidents, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Arthur Weasley, Crying, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Canon, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Harry takes his father-in-law on a trip to Muggle London. However, it proves to be a complete disaster.





	

Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but, somehow, he ended up taking Mr Weasley out on a day trip to Muggle London.

They apparated to Diagon Alley, and, after a quick trip to Gringotts to change up their money, they went through the Leakey Caldron and out into Muggle London. Mr Weasley was practically trembling with excitement. Harry smiled fondly, knowing how excited his father-in-law got about Muggle things.

Mr Weasley quickly got anxious, and he gripped Harry’s forearm rather hard, but Harry didn’t say anything. He knew Mr Weasley needed the contact to stay calm.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, keeping his voice soft.

Mr Weasley nodded. “Yes, Harry, I’m— Look, Harry, that bookshop’s massive! Can we go in there?”

Harry looked where Mr Weasley was pointing, taking a quick glance at his excited face, and saw a three storey bookshop. He smiled at Mr Weasley.

“Sure thing.”

\---

In the bookshop, Mr Weasley let go of Harry’s arm and rushed, practically running, around, looking at everything. He tapped his hands against his face as he walked, bouncing on the balls of his feet so his walk became incredibly springy. Occasionally, he would call Harry over to look at something, and Harry would have to pretend to be as excited as his father-in-law was about perfectly ordinary books. The other customers and the staff kept giving Mr Weasley weird looks but, to Harry’s relief, they didn’t say anything to him.

At one point, Mr Weasley picked up a book (a very expensive-looking, hard backed coping of Bram Stoker’s _Dracula_ ), and Harry knew what he was going to ask before he said it.

“Harry, can I buy this?” He asked, glancing over at the till with an excited smile on his face.

Harry shrugged. “If you want.” And then, as he thought about anti-Muggle security, he added, “I think I better do it, just in case you attract suspicion.”

Mr Weasley looked disappointed, but then he smiled and nodded his head. “I understand.”

He handed Harry his little bundle of Muggle ten and five pound notes; they were damp, showing Harry how sweaty Mr Weasley’s hands were. Holding the book and the money, Harry approached the till, and handed over the book. The cashier glanced at Mr Weasley, who was staring in fascination at the till and the barcode scanner, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did so.

“That’ll be thirty pounds, please,” the cashier said.

Harry, a little taken aback by how expensive the book was, handed over the right amount of money. Mr Weasley let out a little gasp when the cashier opened the till; the cashier raised his eyebrows. Once the transaction was over and they were walking away from the till, Harry handed Mr Weasley the carrier bag.

“Thank you,” Mr Weasley said loudly and cheerfully to the cashier, who looked at him like he was dangerous and took a step backwards.

Harry sighed and led Mr Weasley away from the till. His father-in-law was glancing over his shoulder at the cashier, looking totally confused.

“Why’d he step back, Harry?” He asked, puzzled. “I was just saying thank you.”

Harry had to explain how Muggles tended to have no enthusiasm for their job, and didn’t really like talking to strangers. Mr Weasley just sighed and muttered something about not understanding people.

\---

When they started getting hungry, they went up to the cafe on the third floor of a department store for a drink and a snack. Mr Weasley, who couldn’t drink hot drinks without feeling ill, got a bottle of Coca Cola, and giggled as the bottle hissed as he undid the lid. Harry got a pot of tea, and they both had a slice of chocolate cake.

“This has been a great day out, Harry,” Mr Weasley said, smiling at him, his eyes fixed on Harry’s forehead.

Harry smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

\---

Once they left cafe, it was eleven o’clock, and much busier, and Mr Weasley was visibly stressed as they walked down the pavement. People kept bumping into Mr Weasley, and he winced every time as though it really hurt.

“How’re you feeling?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady; Mr Weasley was gripping his arm again, and it hurt enough to make his voice waver.

“Stressed,” Mr Weasley said flatly. Harry had known him long enough to know his voice always went flat when he was stressed out.

“Harry, look!” Mr Weasley cried, pointing at something across the road, and, before Harry could stop him, he had dashed right out into the busy road.

“Mr Weasley!” He yelled, rushing out into the road after him.

Mr Weasley stopped dead as he heard Harry’s voice, right in the middle of the road. He turned around to look at Harry, his hands clamped over his ears as cars and buses continued to honk their horns at him. As Harry reached him, he looked anxious, seeming to realise the danger in what he’d just done, and gave Harry an apologetic smile.

“Get back on the pavement,” he said, having to raise his voice so Mr Weasley could hear him. Seeing how worried Mr Weasley now looked, Harry added, “It’s all right—”

But he never managed to finish his sentence. Because, all of a sudden, another bus drove past them, and its wing mirror clipped Mr Weasley’s outstretched elbow. Mr Weasley screamed, pressing his arm to his chest and screwing his face up.

“Shit!” Harry said, grabbing Mr Weasley’s good arm and pulling him back onto the pavement.

Mr Weasley’s breathing was shuddering; Harry could see tears escaping from behind his tightly closed eyelids. He was visibly shaking, and he was clutching his injured arm so tightly to his chest Harry couldn’t even see what was wrong with it.

“It h-hurts, Harry,” he mumbled, his voice wobbling.

“I know, but can you let me look?” Harry said, desperately trying to keep Mr Weasley calm.

Mr Weasley let out a spluttering sob and stumbled backwards into a wall, the action jarring his arm and making him cry harder. Harry grabbed hold of him and helped him slide down the wall, watching Mr Weasley start to bang the back of his head against the wall. He had a horrible feeling that he was about to have a meltdown.

Harry looked around, and saw lots of Muggles were crowding around them, peering at Mr Weasley and looking concerned.

“You want me to call an ambulance, mate?” A man asked, pulling a mobile phone out of his pocket.

“Uh...” Harry didn’t know what to do. He thought about St Mungo’s, but knew he couldn’t apparate there with all these people staring at them. In the end, he nodded, wondering if going in an ambulance would calm Mr Weasley down. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

As the man dialled 999, Harry put his arm around Mr Weasley, knowing something like this happening was just bloody typical.

\---

Four hours later, Harry and Mr Weasley left the hospital. Mr Weasley was sporting a cast right up to his elbow, and, even though he was clearly still in pain, he looked cheerful again.

“That was fascinating,” he said, smiling.

Harry shook his head, hardly able to believe that ‘fascinating’ was how his father-in-law would describe having a very painful medical procedure. Still, at least going to a Muggle hospital had calmed him down – not to mention making their day out very eventful.

\---

When they arrived with a pop back at the Burrow that evening, the first thing Mrs Weasley did when she saw them was laugh.

“Arthur,” she said, giggling, “What on Earth are you wearing on your arm?”

It was obvious to Harry that his mother-in-law though Mr Weasley was wearing some dreadful piece of Muggle clothing. But Hermione, who was sat beside Ron at the table, looked concerned.

“That’s a plaster cast,” she said slowly. “Did you break your arm?”

Mr Weasley nodded.

“How?” Mrs Weasley said, sounding both concerned and exasperated.

“It’s a long story,” Harry said, but he knew he still had to explain.

“Harry!” Mrs Weasley said once he had finished the story. “I told you to look after Arthur while you were out.” But she was still laughing, and Harry knew she wasn’t serious. She put her arm around Mr Weasley, and he leaned his head against hers.

Harry smiled, glad everything had turned out all right. Still, Harry wasn’t exactly looking forward to any trips to London in the future.


End file.
